


A Sigh is Just A Sigh

by MaeveBran



Category: Casablanca (1942)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveBran/pseuds/MaeveBran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas 1941 and Rick reflects on the Christmas he and Ilsa spent in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sigh is Just A Sigh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemuelCork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemuelCork/gifts).



Rick Blaine sat alone at the bar in Rick's Cafe Americain, drinking bourbon to drown the memories. It was early morning December the 25, 1941 and while the cafe and casino had seen brisk business that night, he did not feel up the revelry that had filled his gin joint and would fill it again later tonight. It was just too soon to celebrate anything.

This Christmas was both sadder than last and not as sad. Last Christmas he had believed that Ilsa had left him for no good reason. Now he knew better. He knew Ilsa had gone to tend her sick husband, the husband that she had believed was dead. Knowing the reason that she had left him lessened the pain somewhat, but then there was the fact that she was gone again. 

This time, though, Rick only had himself to blame. He made sure Ilsa got on the plane with her husband. America was the best place for Ilsa. They weren't in the war yet, and even when the United States joined the war, the American Continent was too far away to be embroiled in the heavy fighting. Yes, Ilsa would be safe there. Victor Laszlo would see to it.

Rick had known, since Paris, that Ilsa had loved a man before him. She had told him that she had and that the man had died. Rick had seen her with that man, her husband. It would figure that her husband wasn't as dead as reported. It was the way his life was going. Rick had a country he could not return to, a reputation that would see he had to keep one step ahead of the Nazis and now a love reunited with her presumed dead husband.

Rick had seen through Ilsa's protestations of love for him, the night she had come to ask for Rick to leave Casablanca with her. She had loved the way he had made her feel in Paris. The danger they had been in had intensified their feelings but when it came right down to it Ilsa loved her husband. She contributed to his cause of ridding the Continent of the Nazis. She never would have been happy with Rick. He knew she would regret the choice she wanted to make to make up for her choice of Laszlo in Paris. The fact remained that she could have left Laszlo in Paris and run off with Rick and she hadn't. Rick wouldn't have cared that she was a married woman or if she divorced Laszlo to be with him if that had been her choice. Instead she had chosen to go back and nurse her husband and to be with him. Rick wasn't going to stand in her way.

Rick had told her that she'd regret her choice if she had stayed with him, but he had denied how much he'd regret the choice to send her with Laszlo. Sure he regretted it as soon as the plane had taken off. And he had regretted it everyday since, a little less. But that was a regret of what might have been. He was sure that Laszlo was right for her and he'd stick to that opinion come hell or high water.

Sam walked in and saw Rick at the bar, “Are you still up, Boss.”

“Yes,” Rick answered as he poured another drink for himself and grabbed another glass. “I plan to be up a while still.” He poured bourbon for his friend and employee. “Have a drink with me.”

“Yes, boss,” Sam said as he sat down across from Rick. He drained his glass and moved to the piano. 

“Play it, Sam,” Rick said staring down into the liquid in the glass.

“You sure, boss?” Sam said.

“I'm sure,” Rick answered. Sam played “As Time Goes By”.

As always, the song took Rick back to happier times in Paris. Was it only a year and a half ago? It seemed a lifetime ago and yet just yesterday. 

They had spent the Christmas season of 1939 in Paris. The snow had dusted the city, masking the dirt of the industry in the city. It had been the classic Christmas. The light had seemed rose colored and the war seemed far away. It was probably the effects of being in love. Ilsa had certainly acted like she had loved him as they had walked the streets along the Seine in the light of the lamps and moon towards the Notre Dame Cathedral for midnight service. It wasn't that either of them were particularly religious but the service was a thing of beauty and tradition.

Beauty and tradition made even more precious because of the war that was rapidly growing and swallowing the continent. They had walked back to their apartment above Le Belle Aurore. 

Rick had swept Ilsa into his arms as soon as the door shut behind them. He had bent his head and kissed her. He had always been a cynic but somehow being with Ilsa made him believe love was possible. He had helped her remove her coat and then his overcoat and had swept her up in his arms. He had carried her to the bedroom and set her down on the bed. They had continued their celebrations privately and in the most elemental way that a man and a woman could.

Christmas morning, they had exchanged small token gifts, nothing fancy because the war made gift giving seem like an unnecessary thing to do. Every moment together was all the gift Rick needed. They had gone down at the cafe singing carols with the other patrons while Sam played.

Sam played the last notes of “As Time Goes By”, and Rick shook himself out of his reverie. That Christmas and the happy time in Paris were long gone.

“Merry Christmas, boss,” Sam said as he stepped away from the piano.

“Merry Christmas, Sam,” Rick said as he finally downed the bourbon. “I think I'll go up to bed.”

Rick made his way upstairs and turned out the lights as he went.


End file.
